Dry Spell
by tearsofamiko
Summary: He’s not sure, but he thinks he hasn’t had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.
1. Him

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I wouldn't be on FanFiction so much if I owned them. I'd be...enjoying them...^^

Spoilers: _The Truth is Out There_

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C. again.

A/N: Heh, something Tony said in this episode suddenly made me think of a TIVA type moment. ^^ Even though he's talking to Kate.

* * *

He's surprised to find he's not actually bothered by having to work through the weekend. He thinks maybe it should bother him. It used to, he knows that. He used to hate having to break dates and cancel plans, losing any slight chance he had with his latest flavor of the week. Frowning, he realizes that he actually hasn't had all that many dates recently. He wonders briefly at that.

He sits at his desk and seriously thinks, tries to remember the last time he had a date he really looked forward to. It's harder than he expects it to be. Maybe it's because of how much has happened recently, but somehow he doesn't think it's actually that. Eyebrows drawing together, he turns and glances at the calendar he has hanging next to his desk.

He doesn't even notice the enticing pose of the pin-up style model proclaimed in bold letters to be "Ms. November;" he's more focused on counting the weeks that have passed, trying to remember some sort of milestone to trigger some definitive timeline. He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C. again.

Huh.

'_Dry spell, Tony?'_ he can hear Kate whisper in his ear and he's struck by the realization that he hasn't thought of her in a long time either. Not that that's a bad thing, really, but he'd gotten used to imagining her nearby and observing. Not as some sort of denial or anything, but because he misses her, misses their relationship. Hadn't thought of her in a while, though.

He wonders why this has happened, any of it. He doesn't think Jenny's death has anything to do with it, but it might. You never know. Thinking of Jenny, though, makes him think of a poolside in L.A. and he smiles. The elevator chimes just then and he glances up, pulling himself upright in his chair just in case it's Gibbs.

He smiles again as she walks out, her hair straightened for once and falling in soft strands over her shoulders. She's casual as she strides over to her desk, purposeful. She glances over at him briefly and flashes as grin in his direction as she puts away her gear and settles into her chair. He feels a strange sort of jump in his gut as her gaze once more flicks in his direction and finally stays trained on his face. As she watches him, confusion and amusement shining in her eyes, he grins back at her and turns his attention to his monitor.

He thinks he knows why he doesn't mind working all weekend, after all.


	2. Her

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: not really...

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C. again.

A/N: I got a very fervent request to continue this. So, here it is! ^^

* * *

She's not sure what's going on in his head. He'd looked so contemplative when she walked into the squad-room, alert but focused inward. She's not used to that from him. As she sits and makes a pretense of working hard on some file or other, she realizes that she's actually seen a more serious side to him recently than she used to. It's unusual for him and she wonders that it took her until now to notice it.

Pausing with her hands hovering over the keyboard, she watches him covertly from behind her monitor. She sees what she's always seen, what she's seen each day since he came back. There're lines around his eyes that weren't there before L.A. and she understands that he's probably still dealing. He's like that, she knows; he feels things strongly, even if he doesn't always show it.

She doesn't remember when she started noticing all the little things about him, the nuances in his gestures and movements, the minutiae of his appearance. What bothers her more is that she really doesn't know when she started noticing all those for reasons other than surveillance. She knows she's done this before with other men, other partners, but it's never held this sort of intensity for her, it's never been what amounts to an obsession.

Forcing herself to analyze the situation, she realizes that she almost painfully aware of him – his presence, his personality – when she's in the same room as him. And that had started before the team was disbanded. What was new, though, was the special care she'd started taking in her own appearance. She didn't do much different, but there were little things: a shirt color she knew complimented her coloring, changing her hairstyle occasionally, taking the time to straighten her hair instead of throwing it up into a ponytail. She's not sure he's even noticed.

She tries not to let it bother her, focuses on the knowledge that he's not been on a date in weeks to appease her ego. Hating herself a little, she realizes she's just like those girls she sneers at, the ones completely devoted to their boyfriends, the ones who were popular cheerleaders in school (or so she's seen on TV). Some days, though, she can't help it, has to wallow in the feelings for a while in the privacy of her apartment; nothing major or anything, just enough to keep her from killing or maiming him the next day. She knows Gibbs wouldn't like that.

Today, though, she just slumps a little in her chair as she considers his reaction to her entrance earlier. He'd perked up a little when her identity registered, relaxed a little into his chair with an enigmatic smile curving his mouth. She'd been too curious to let that slide, had kept sneaking little glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking. When he caught her at it, however, the reaction was much different than she expected it to be.

He hadn't looked away for the longest second. He'd held her gaze, read whatever was visible in her eyes and smiled at her again, a small quirk that's at once more natural and more sexy than any of the cheesy grins she's seen him give other women. And that wasn't the half of it. A strange little current had zinged between them, charging the air and awakening the butterflies in her stomach. Thankfully, he'd broken the contact before a blush spread across her cheeks. She wasn't sure how to handle the rest of it.

She did know that she didn't mind the warmth she'd seen in his eyes, the hint of something sweet and mysterious and wholly unknown that had glowed within the green depths. She didn't know what it meant, especially for her, but she didn't mind it at all.

In fact, she rather liked it.

* * *

A/N: I will try to continue this. But this felt like a good place to end this chapter. I like the whole drabble-y feel it still kinda has. ^^


	3. Plans

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: not really

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C. again.

* * *

He knows she's been watching him, has felt her gaze like a touch every time. Even as he logs into a database to search for information on a suspect, he wonders what she's looking for, what she finds. It's not like her to be so distracted and only knowing that nothing's gone wrong recently keeps him from worrying. Doesn't help him focus any more, but he's gotten good at putting up a front and so appears completely dedicated.

He wonders what she's thinking as she sits there. He does it often, tries to get into and understand the workings of her mind but, as usual, hasn't much luck. A familiar shift in the air signals Gibbs' return and this time his dedication isn't feigned.

Five long hours of searching and studying later, he leans back in his chair, trying to both pop his back and sink into the chair's embrace. She's still poring over a file, making notes in the corner and mumbling to herself. He noticed the absence of her gaze in his direction a while ago; with Gibbs nearby, simply faking concentration doesn't cut it. He stretches his arms over his head and runs a quick survey with his eyes.

She looks tired, he notices immediately. He knows that she hates paperwork, remembers when she very nearly removed his head for a passing comment one of the times she was benched. A Saturday spent examining documentation and forms, databases and registries is just as exhausting as running down suspects, if not more so for people like them. But it's only eight o'clock and he knows Gibbs won't relent until _some_one finds _some_thing helpful.

He almost jumps as his phone rings, breaking the silence hovering over their work area. Restraining himself, he picks up the handset and answers.

"Hey. Tonight? I don't know, might be here a while longer. Yeah, you and me both. Well...maybe if I...I know, I know. Yeah, it was supposed to be last week. Hey, that's not fair." He can't help the smile even as he whines playfully. "Okay, okay, _okay_. Yes, alright? If I can get away, we will. Your place or mine? Sounds good. I'll get dinner. Okay, see you later." He's glad Gibbs went for coffee, allowing him to complete the phone call and not feel guilty about it afterward. He refocuses on his monitor, looking for any hint, any connection that might prove worthwhile.

Her gaze returns with a vengeance, prodding him into awareness. Feeling slightly bewildered, he looks up and meets her eyes across the walkway. The confusion and anger he sees mirrored in her dark gaze surprises him, but it's the glimmer of pain that nearly knocks him backward. Their eyes hold a moment longer, then she's the one to break the connection, turning back to her paperwork and away from him.

He's not sure what's happened, but he knows instinctively that it doesn't bode well for him.

* * *

A/N: Just in case you were wondering, the chapters are actually short on purpose. Somehow it feels like it extends the drabble-y feeling, even though a drabble isn't more than a short oneshot. I am glad I was prodded into continuing this, though. It's turning out to be much more fun than I thought it would be.


	4. Jealousy

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: Mention of _Cloak_

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C. again.

* * *

She's not sure she believes her ears. They're in the middle of a case and he's making a date for _tonight_? She tells herself that's the only reason his phone call has bothered her, refuses to seriously consider anything else, but knows deep down that that's not it.

She's too tired to threaten him openly, though, and the headache building at the base of her skull is rapidly becoming more troublesome. She contents herself with glaring at him, tries to find satisfaction in the bewilderment she sees in his face. It almost works; she almost convinces herself that his stupid phone call doesn't matter and that she doesn't care.

Almost.

She doesn't see the words before her anymore. All she can see are the many women she's seen him flirt with before, each less impressive than the last, none particularly remarkable. As she broods, their faces blur into one perfect angel and somehow she determines that's who he's meeting tonight. The hot spike of jealousy in her gut surprises her and she unconsciously curls a hand around her stomach, leaning her forehead into her other hand.

There's silence for a little while after that, though her concentration's completely shot. She's simply staring at the page, wondering about his plans tonight and the person he's made them with. She's ashamed at herself when she jumps slightly as the elevator chimes and a delighted cry sounds through the bullpen. As Gibbs walks in, coffee cup in hand, Tony types a sequence into his keyboard and bounces out of his seat, exuding more energy than she feels he's allowed to.

With surprisingly little rambling, Tony explains a clue he's finally found, a connection that will finally allow them to get the warrant they need to move forward. She tries to feel excited at the revelation, tries to gather enough energy to be glad she's going home soon. She thinks she manages it, comes across as sincere to her colleagues. The new information displayed on the plasma reminds her of something she'd seen earlier and she mentions it to Gibbs, who simply nods and files it away for later.

The urge to ask him about his plans is almost irresistible as they gather their gear to head home. There's a slight bounce to his step and she's jealous of that, jealous that he has something to go home to. As tired as she is, she can't help but wish she was going with him. It's harder to keep her distance with a migraine building and exhaustion weighing her down. She lets the moment pass, simply follows him to the elevator as they head down to the garage.

There's silence between them, though he's vibrating with expectant energy. It's almost awkward but she can't bring herself to speak, knows that if she does she'll demand to know who's waiting for him. Instead, she closes her eyes and leans her head against the cool metal wall, feeling the soothing pressure against her temple. She thinks she might have actually drifted off for a second as she's suddenly aware of his touch on her arm.

"Hey, we're here," he says, his green eyes trained carefully on hers. He's standing close to her, close enough that she wants to lean forward against him, let him hold her. It's similar to what she felt in that closet back during their war game and the attempt to make Lee confess.

Abruptly, though, she remembers the woman waiting for him at home, the perfect angel her pain-fogged mind conjured up. She pulls away from him, makes some excuse for zoning out in the elevator, and heads for her car.

She can feel his stare on her back long after he's out of sight.

* * *

A/N: BTW, don't ask me where McGee is...maybe he's down in Abby's lab. I don't know. I just realized he was missing myself. ^^ Oh, and I'm tired; can you tell?


	5. Advice

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

* * *

He should be paying attention to the movie. It's one of his favorites and his companion knows that, chose it because of that, but he can't seem to make himself get into it. He's too preoccupied remembering the look in her eyes.

He'd been surprised when she dozed off in the elevator; a move like that was completely not Ziva. He'd been hesitant to wake her, knowing how her instincts would demand she incapacitate whatever took her by surprise. She hadn't tried to take his hand off, though. She's just looked at him, her eyes warm and liquid and so close to his. There'd been a magnetic pull for a moment and he'd wanted to take a chance, wanted to relearn what she tasted like. The sudden change in her eyes broke the spell, though. In an instant they went cold and distant, vaguely hurt, before she tore away and practically ran for her car.

He'd been dumbstruck, completely unable to say anything to fix whatever had gone wrong, unable to call her back. He'd only stood there watching as she left, wondering, feeling slightly lost. He's so deeply in thought that he doesn't even notice when the girl next to him leans over and pauses the movie, doesn't realize he's been so silent and still until she speaks.

"What's wrong, Tony?"

He jumps and turns wide eyes on her before shaking his head, grinning slightly. "Sorry, Abs. I was thinking."

"So that explains the pained expression on your face," she teases, lightly punching his shoulder. He chuckles in response, then goes silent, his eyes turning vague as his thoughts reclaim him. "Wanna talk about it?"

He stares at her for a second and thinks. He knows she wouldn't tell anyone, despite her normally hyper and effusive personality. Still, he's not sure he wants anyone to know, not yet, not when he's still not sure himself. "I...uh..." he trails off, wondering where to start, then decides to play it off. "Ziva fell asleep in the elevator when we left this evening. I was just wondering about that. S'not like her."

Abby levels a pensive gaze on him and he knows she sees more than he's said. She just sits there, though, not saying anything, just watching him. As with Ziva, he had no idea what's running through her mind, but it's not because she's too mysterious; random is just how Abby's mind works. Her thinking about what he'd said makes him think about it again and he sinks back into his thoughts.

"She...had a strange look on her face after you called. Like she was angry or something." He shrugs. "No idea what upset her."

She looks thoughtful. "Did she know it was me?"

"Um..." He thinks for a moment, remembering the conversation. "No, I don't think so. But I haven't been on a date in ages. She should know that, she's the observant Mossad officer. Besides, we've all been too busy."

"She might not know, Tony, and it's never stopped you before," she points out, tilting her head sideways. "Maybe...she's jealous?"

Tony snorts. "Yeah, like Ziva'd get jealous. She's too..." he waves his hand in the air trying to find the right descriptor, "grown-up for that."

"She's still a woman, Tony! Gah! Just because she carries a gun doesn't mean she doesn't feel." He almost grins at the exasperation in her voice, but knows better. Instead, he nods and agrees, leaning back into the couch. Her gaze doesn't leave his face for the longest time and eventually he turns to look at her again.

"What?"

"You should tell her, Tony. How you feel. I don't think she'd mind."

He opens his mouth to protest, to remind her of the training Ziva's had and just how many paperclips are in his desk. Something stops him, though, something in her eyes or her tone of voice, or the expression he'd seen on Ziva's face when he smiled at her that morning. He closes his mouth and almost frowns, then nods slowly. Her smile in return is nearly blinding and he's glad he's made her happy, even if her advice has his stomach in knots.

"Good. Now, will you please pay attention? They're just about to realize that there really might be a one-armed man and you know you love when they actually listen to him and grow brains," she informs him, still smiling and her amusement and excitement is contagious. He makes a grand gesture for her to start the DVD again and settles in next to her, finally focused on the film.

A pair of hurt brown eyes still hover at the edge of his mind, though, as he relaxes next to Abby and watches the movie.


	6. Mission

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

* * *

She's decided she'll try to keep her distance today. She thinks maybe she's gotten too close and is seeing things that aren't there because of it. So, she makes up her mind and sets this goal for herself: she will be his friend, his partner, his coworker, and wish for nothing else.

She knows she's strong enough, has enough training, to do anything she sets her mind to.

She doesn't know if she can do this.

In the beginning it's easy to make this choice. She squares her shoulders as the elevator ascends to the correct floor, strides confidently over to her desk, and resolutely boots up her computer. Absently greeting McGee as he passes her desk, she pulls up their current case notes and begins reviewing them. Everything is going well; her will-power isn't failing, she's completely dedicated to her task and their case, not distracted in the least.

Then, Tony arrives at work.

He casually walks off the elevator and instantly her concentration is shot. Instead of memorizing the clues that will allow them to corner their suspect, she's fixated on the fact that he's wearing a Kelly-green sweater today that looks soft as a cloud and that makes his eyes even greener, his hair seem darker and more brown. Instead of planning different ways to trip up the suspect in interrogation, she notices that he's gone without hair products today and daydreams about walking over and carding her fingers through his hair. She tries to be covert about her fascination with his apparel today but he still catches her looking at him and, as their eyes meet, she feels a blush heat her chest and spread up her neck. She looks away quickly, turns back to her work.

She hears him humming softly to himself as he arranges his stuff at his desk and pulls out his breakfast. She refuses to look up from the file she's reading, is mortified that he caught her ogling him. The words on the page in front of her make no sense, but she keeps looking at them, hoping they'll sink in, hoping she'll be able to ignore his presence and get some work done. As she hears him start antagonizing McGee and joking, she pulls forward her training and forces herself to absorb the information in front of her.

She doesn't jump when the paper ball bounces off her forehead, but she does look up. He's smiling at her from across the room, a cheesy grin that's only vaguely reflected in his eyes. She wonders at that, but forces her thoughts away. Slipping into the easy, flirty banter that's their usual, she playfully frowns, picks up the ball, and stands. Sauntering over to his desk, she smiles at him, all sweetness.

"You remember what I told you about office supplies?" she asks innocently and feels real amusement at the flicker of unease in his eyes. He covers it with bravado and bombast, shooting back a response almost immediately.

"You saying you could kill me with a piece of paper?"

She just watches him for a second, knowing that'll bother him more than replying, and it gives her a excuse to look at him. She notices that he seems relaxed today, a change from past weeks that she hadn't noticed before. She barely stops herself from frowning as she considers this. Then, she remembered the date he set up Saturday and the penny drops. She feels...she's not sure what she feels, but she has to put some distance between them.

"If I wanted to," she throws over her shoulder as she drops the paper ball on his desk and heads back to her chair.

Remembering his date makes her mission suddenly easier and her concentration is real and unforced. She finally memorizes all the important facts in the case and begins following leads, just as Gibbs breezes down the stairs and heads for his desk. She notices that Tony's deep in thought, staring blankly at her desk and it makes her curious. She zones out, losing herself in thought as she watches her partner.

"David!" Her name is called sharply and she almost flinches, her head snapping up to meet Gibbs' gaze. She sees the impatience and realizes she's been asked a question, probably several times. Feeling vaguely off-kilter, she stands to cue up the plasma.

'_Inattention leads to death, Officer David,' _she hears her drill instructor whisper in her ear, disdain and force behind his words. She turns her back on distraction, figuratively and literally, and focuses on the case.

It's harder than she thought it would be.

* * *

A/N: ^^ I found McGee! Don't know what he was doing in previous chapters, but he's here now. ^^ I was bothered by his absence...Oh, and I hope Ziva doesn't come across as being too whiny or anything. I just figure that she would kinda close herself off or make herself back away if she felt her affection was one-sided...


	7. Abby

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

* * *

He's almost scared to face Abby today, especially alone, mostly because he knows she'll ream him out for not following her advice yet. With the way she is, she won't accept that there simply hasn't been a chance to even begin to mention the subject. No, Abby definitely won't be happy with him.

Too bad Gibbs told him to take the evidence down to her lab.

"Hey, Abs," he greets tentatively as he walks through the door, a brimming evidence box in his hands.

A bright smile lights her face and she bounds across the lab to hug him, despite his load. "Tony! I missed you!" she cries, tugging the box out of his hands to hug him properly. "Oh, I haven't seen you since Saturday!"

"Sorry. We've kind of been going non-stop this week. First, there was the Johnson case this weekend, then the missing 12-year-olds, and now a dead MP." He shrugs apologetically.

She gives him a look as she steps away and begins rifling through the box. "What did Ziva say?" she asks nonchalantly, her head in the box. He doesn't respond, trying to find some explanation that won't land him a punch, but his silence is as much a clue as speaking would've been. Slowly, she raises up and looks him straight in the eye. "You haven't talked to her." It's not a question.

"A-bby," he whines, feeling like a recalcitrant child, "I've been a little busy recently." He didn't want to tell her that Ziva herself seemed to be avoiding him. Not obviously or anything, just managing to keep from being alone with him for too long. By not mentioning that aberration, though, he underestimates Abby's ability to perceive.

"It's not just your fault, though." Her tone is thoughtful and she stops sifting through the evidence to place one hand on her chin, leveling a stare at him.

He ducks slightly as she hits home, for some reason feeling oddly guilty. "I think she's avoiding me, but she's not being obvious about it."

"Hmm," she hums, grabbing a stack of fingerprint cards and heading over to her scanner. "You said she heard you make plans with me, right?"

"Yeah, and then Monday she was...different."

A triumphant glow sparks in her eyes as she whirls to face him. "I was right! She _is_ jealous."

"I'm not sure that's it." Now he's thoughtful, mulling over the facts and thinking out-loud. "She's not completely avoiding me; she just won't stay in the same room as me if we're alone. That's really the only difference. We still argue, I still annoy her, and she still threatens me." He pauses as he realizes something. "It's too normal."

"How so?" Now Abby's picked up his train of thought and tries to follow it through with him.

"There's not been anything personal about it. Nothing. She doesn't bring up anything from the past or ask about life in general and...well, she doesn't let anything slip for me to play with." He knows this isn't enough, especially with how busy they've been recently, but it's all he's got. "She's pushing me away."

"Or pulling away, herself," Abby qualifies, trying to divide some of the guilt he hadn't considered yet.

"But, why?"

Abby's entire mood shifts with his words, a lightning-fast transition from thoughtful to bouncy. "_That_ is what _you_ need to find out on your own, DiNozzo." She pecks him on the cheek, leaving a dark lipstick smear, then turns him, pushing him to the door. "Now, get out. The evidence and I need some alone time."

He chuckles at her actions and swipes a hand across his cheek, shaking his head as he punches the button to head back to the bullpen. He's missed her over the last few days, especially after their movie night reminded him of how much he enjoys her company. They have a standing date set for Friday each week, but the last few weeks had been too busy for the ritual. He considers what movie to choose this week as he waits for the elevator to let him off, mentally thumbing through his extensive collection for the perfect title.

In the back of his mind, privately and very quietly, he admits he's avoiding thinking about Ziva.


	8. Anger

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

* * *

Avoiding him has been the only way to continue her mission. But even keeping her distance from him physically doesn't keep her thoughts off him. Instead of drooling over his looks and craving his companionship, she's enjoying a repeating reel of confused looks and flat jokes, which doesn't help her concentration anymore than before.

She's glad that Gibbs sent him down to Abby by himself because it keeps her from having to work to ignore the effect his presence has on her peace of mind. She rereads her notes from the scene and begins seeking out leads, the images and words cohesively joining in such a way that answers seem to come easily. She's unaware of how much time passes, only vaguely noticing Gibbs leaving for coffee, until the elevator chimes and releases her partner. She glances up, simply as a matter of confirming what she already knew, and her eyes immediately lock on a smear of color on his cheek.

Once again, he has managed – without a single word – to throw her concentration completely out the window.

Her mouth drops open of its own accord as she tries to think of something to say. He doesn't notice her discomfort and that, more than anything else, makes her realize that the lipstick on his cheek doesn't bother him at all, if he even notices it. She doesn't know how to take this, this open flaunting, and can only sit there, staring. He sits down in his chair and glances up at her, finally noticing that something's amiss.

"What?"

Before she can cobble together an answer, Gibbs is back, coffee in hand. "Clean your face, DiNozzo," he says, as he settles behind his desk, "and get to work."

As he frowns and ducks behind his computer scrubbing his face with a hand, her shock begins to crystallize into something else, something clawed and hurt, waiting to strike out. She pinches her lips together and feels the muscles along her arms and back tighten with the desire to inflict pain, pain enough to abolish that clawed something the lipstick on his face birthed. Her gaze flicks up to meet his across their workspace and she sees him flinch slightly, a vague frown settling across his face. She doesn't want to look at him right now, because he's beautiful and he knows her a little and there were so many possibilities and he'd had lipstick on his face. She turns back to her monitor and feels the tense anger burn through her, though on the surface she's cool and calm and collected.

Gibbs' phone rings and a brief conversation ensues, preventing her from immediately returning to her notes. She half expects it, but something still twists inside her when Gibbs speaks.

"DiNozzo, David. Commander Morris' partner thinks he remembers something. Go talk to him."

"On it, Boss," Tony answers, gathering his gear. She doesn't say anything, just reaches into her drawer and grabs her service weapon, heading to the elevator without waiting for him.

He slides into the elevator just before the doors close and shoots her a frustrated look as the car begins to descend. She can't help the glare that look triggers and has to bite her cheek to keep from lashing out at him. As she watches the anger flare in his eyes, she swings her stare to the doors, mentally urging the elevator to move faster. She can't help it and glances back at him, catching his gaze.

"_What?!"_ he snaps.

Her eyes narrow, but her tone is completely innocent when she replies. "Nothing."

The silence is thick and tense and they don't look at each other again for the rest of the ride to the garage. He takes the keys without comment, surprising her, but she tenaciously holds to her anger. However, she realizes her control is cracking and she's dangerously close to letting loose.

A last-minute date on a Saturday night is one thing.

A lipstick smear in the middle of the day is a completely different ball of wax.

* * *

A/N: Heheh...Tony's gonna catch hell. ^^ And he doesn't even know why. I'm so evil...maniacal laugh


	9. Collision

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

* * *

"You are driving too slowly," she complains and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He's frustrated and annoyed and being in such a small space with her only is only exacerbating those feelings. He has no idea what he's done to piss her off so spectacularly, but he feels he should and that feeling, as much as her obvious anger, is transferring itself to his driving.

He weaves in and around cars on the Beltway, at least fifteen miles above the speed limit. It's reckless for him, but her prodding and complaining has his foot weighing heavier on the accelerator, gradually pushing the speed higher and higher. His eyes are narrowed as if in concentration but, really, he's not all that focused on the road. Instead, he tenses a little more as she huffs and he can hear her eyes roll and it pushes him a little closer to the edge. When she starts drumming her fingers on the door, he does a flying leap off that edge.

"_What?_" he snarls. It's the match thrown into the powder-keg.

"I cannot _believe_ you were making up with someone in the building!" she says, not shouting, but the force behind the words is the same.

Her slip only confuses him for a second. "It's 'making out' and I wasn't. What gave you that idea?"

"The lipstick on your face was a good clue." He notices absently that she's not looking at him, that she has her eyes resolutely trained out the windshield.

"The lipst..." That gets him briefly, but he quickly catches on. "Abby was happy to see me. Haven't been down all week." He frowns and glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "Why's it matter to you?" It might be too much to hope that Abby's right.

She's quiet, doesn't respond for the longest time, though he can feel her anger still vibrating in the air. Then she shrugs nonchalantly and her voice is completely casual. "It does not matter. I do not need you distracted."

His jaw drops because, despite the fact he's innocent of her charge, he's shocked and vaguely outraged that she thinks he'd be that unprofessional. "My personal life stays out of the office."

"Oh, like you do not broadcast the details of your dates the next day."

His knuckles go white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel again and unconsciously presses a little harder on the accelerator. Neither Ziva nor he notices that his driving is now rivaling Gibbs, though with less finesse. "It doesn't affect my work," he grinds out through clenched teeth.

"No, you just make personal calls when Gibbs is not looking," she mumbles under her breath, but he still hears.

"_What?_" The single word is an explosion of outrage.

"Saturday!" she throws at him, finally turning in her seat to face him. "The first time in hours Gibbs had gone for coffee and you arrange to meet someone after work!" There's the barest pause after her words and his thoughts latch onto the revelation that Abby really was right about Ziva's reaction to the phone call.

"Ziva," he's earnest, almost desperate, because suddenly it's so important she know it was only Abby, his best friend and surrogate sister. "It was Abby that called that night." He takes his eyes off the road for a second, wanting to see her eyes.

"Tony, look out!" she shrieks, and he immediately looks forward, but there's no time and nothing to be done, because even brakes are useless now.

The sound of collapsing metal echoes around him as his mind goes blank.

* * *

A/N: He told her it was Abby. XD

_**col****lision**  –noun 1. the act of colliding; a coming violently into contact; crash 2. a clash; conflict_


	10. Aftermath

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

* * *

She sees him before he sees them and she's not surprised that he's here. As he draws closer, she sees the diamond hardness of his blue eyes and knows that he's angry and worried and doesn't like it. She sees it before he gets there, so his opening words don't surprise her.

"What the _hell_ happened?" he barks and all heads turn in his direction.

She was prepared for it, but has no response. "I...there was...we..." She glances over at the mangled remains of their car and tries to find some way to explain what happened without throwing the situation into the wrong light.

"I was going too fast and couldn't stop in time," Tony's voice rings out from within the ambulance she was resting against. Immediately, Gibbs moves forward and finally begins to look beyond what happened to see the damage.

The crumpled metal of their car pulls her gaze once again and she shudders as she realizes how lucky they'd been. The vehicle in front of them had slowed for construction and they hadn't been able stop in time. She didn't think she'd passed out but the airbag had obscured her vision and left her feeling dazed for several minutes. By the time she could think straight again, emergency crews were arriving on the scene. Sitting on the bumper of an ambulance and facing Gibbs, her mind still shies away from remembering the way Tony'd looked when she'd first glanced at him. Instead, she focuses on the here and now.

"What's the damage?" Gibbs asks the EMT sitting next to Tony and she stands and turns to listen.

"I'm fine, Boss," Tony interjects.

"Shut up," Gibbs orders and she almost laughs at the expression on Tony's face.

"They both have relatively minor injuries. Ms. David over there suffered only minor cuts and abrasions. The cut over her eye we butterfly-taped shut. We'd like to have her ride along to rule out whiplash, but that's about it." The report is simple and thorough, but the tech hesitates before detailing Tony's condition. "Mr. DiNozzo was unconscious when we arrived on the scene, possibly indicating a concussion. He has also sustained relatively minor cuts and abrasions, none of which require stitches. His shoulder, on the other hand, concerns us."

Gibbs' eyes narrow and she feels her stomach drop to her toes. The look on Tony's face is thunderous.

"It's not that bad," he mutters lowly, scowling at the floor of the ambulance. "I've broken my collar-bone before." She feels the blood drain out of her face.

"Which one?" Gibbs asks, an unreadable expression on his face and a rarely-seen glimmer in his eyes.

"Left, where the seatbelt ran."

Gibbs nods and turns to look at the remains of their car. He's thoughtful for a period of time and she can tell by the shadows in his eyes he's seeing what might have been. He seems to sag a little, look a little older, as the seriousness of what'd happened plays behind his eyes. Finally, he blinks and sighs deeply, then turns to face them again.

"Ziva, go to the hospital with Tony. Get yourself checked out." She doesn't try to argue, not because she thinks she's seriously injured, but because she has to know that Tony isn't. Raising an eyebrow at her easy compliance, Gibbs jumps down out of the ambulance, landing lightly next to her. Her gaze slides once more to the heap of scrap metal that had been a car and the possibilities play in her mind once more. A warm hand lands on her shoulder as she shivers, both from the cold air and their near-brush with death, and she turns to meet Gibbs' eyes, seeing the understanding in them and appreciating it. Nodding, she flashes him the ghost of a weary smile and climbs into the ambulance.

Tony groans and leans his head back against the wall of the ambulance as the doors are closed, cradling his injured arm to his side. He's pale, his lips white around the edges as he holds himself together. She knows how much a broken collar-bone hurts and marvels at his ability to stay silent against the pain. Trying to come up with something to take his mind off the pain, she reaches for the first thing she thinks of.

"What movie does this remind you of?" she asks and watches his eyes pop open. No one ever _asks_ him for movie references. That she's surprised him makes her smile. He grins in response and takes a breath to answer.

"Well, there is this one..."

* * *

A/N: Don't freak out. It's not done yet. There's at least two more chapters. I promise: they will finally quit being obtuse idiots. ^^ Oh, and he doesn't actually say the name of the movie 'cause I couldn't find a good one to match the situation. But that's okay. :D


	11. Hospital

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

A/N: Almost there, guys. ^^

* * *

He's glad she's with him, not because he needs someone to hold his hand, but because he needs to know she's alright, that his stupidity didn't kill her. He'd run out of movie references hours ago and there's been so much back and forth at the hospital that conversation is difficult, but just seeing her every now and then is enough. He winces and exhales in a hiss as the doctor pokes his shoulder, nudging the fractured bone. He then scowls as the doctor leans back and tells him what he already knew.

"Broken collar-bone, likely from the seatbelt."

He bites his tongue to keep a smart-ass response behind his teeth and nods. He makes no sound as the doctor continues to poke and prod his injured shoulder, checking the extent of the damage, though he pales even more. Across the room, he catches Ziva's anguished eyes and wonders at the intensity of the emotion even as he lets the relief that she's okay pour over him again. He drifts away from himself as the doctor continues to inspect his arm and remembers what met his eyes when he woke up after the crash.

She hadn't been there when he woke up, only an EMT working to rouse him. He'd wildly looked for her, hadn't seen her at first, and for a brief second feared the worst. Then the tech kneeling next to him had called out and Ziva appeared, looking bedraggled and slightly dazed, but safe. He'd felt limp with relief at seeing her, allowing the EMT to finish his task. That feeling had lasted until Gibbs arrived, sustaining him through the annoying questions and initial poking and prodding.

His attention snaps back to the present just as the doctor sits back and reaches for a prescription pad. "Mr. DiNozzo, we're going to fit you for a sling to immobilize your arm. You'll have to wear it for a week –"

"A week?!" he can't help but squawk.

"A week." There's steel in the doctor's voice and he scowls as he gives in. He thinks he hears Ziva snort, but chooses to ignore it. "I'm also going to give you something for the pain. You'll have to take it easy for a while or the break won't set right. Perhaps some time off work would be in order." He snorts in response and the doctor simply nods as he acknowledges how likely that possibility is. "Just stick to simply being right-handed for a week, then."

He nods grudgingly, already envisioning the stack of paperwork waiting for him when he got back to headquarters. As the doctor leaves for a moment, he reaches behind him with his right arm and grabs his shirt, thankful he chose to wear a button-up today, and pulls it on. He buttons it up slowly, carefully keeping his left arm practically motionless. Just as he fastens the last button, the doctor walks back in with the sling. A quick and only mildly painful fitting later and they're ready to leave. Standing on the curb outside the ER, he realizes they have no way of leaving the hospital.

"You want to share a cab?" Ziva asks him, her brown eyes deep and warm and suddenly he wonders whether or not she heard what he said right before the crash. Almost without thinking about it, he nods, focused more on replaying the seconds before the crash.

The cab ride is quiet and he keeps sneaking glances at her as he continues to wonder whether she heard. He's so absorbed in watching her that he doesn't notice where the cab is traveling until it stops outside his building.

"Why're we here? Shouldn't we be back at work?" he asks, feeling slightly bewildered.

"Gibbs called, while they were x-raying your arm. Gave us the rest of the day off. Medical leave. But we're expected back at work tomorrow morning. No exceptions."

He laughs wryly at that, but agrees.

"Well, it's five o'clock and I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. You wanna order some Chinese, watch a movie?" he offers and is glad when she accepts, a smile deep in her eyes that only curls the very edges of her mouth. He's captivated by that smile, held frozen as he tries not to stare. She grins at his expression and steps past him toward the building, then turns and crooks a finger at him.

'_Snap out of it, Tony,'_ Kate whispers in his ear, amusement tingeing her voice. He glances over his shoulder and thinks he sees her for a second, her warm brown eyes alight with laughter as she smiles at him. _'What're you waiting for? Go get her.'_

He smiles softly in response and turns to follow Ziva, intent on acting on Kate's advice.

* * *

A/N: Hmm...I'm thinking one, maybe two more chapters. ^^ And they will give in and confess soon, I promise.


	12. Honesty

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: See first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

A/N: Many, many games of Mah-Jong and Solitaire later, I present ch 12. For some reason, it wasn't as easy to write as the others...though ch 11 wasn't a cake walk, either. But I'm completely satisfied with both. And my games stats are better. :D Enjoy.

* * *

She isn't watching the movie, isn't even sure what's on. She's watching him instead and is relatively certain he isn't watching the movie either, even though he told her it was one of his favorites and held a lot of memories.

His eyes meet hers over his container of noodles and she quickly shifts her gaze back to the television in time to see the terrorist shoot the reporter. She wonders briefly what she missed, especially when shown the stricken faces of the other characters, but the thought flies from her head when her gaze meets his again.

There's something warm there, familiar, something she's seen many times and in many situations. Her breath catches in her chest as heat spreads through her, sparked by his eyes and the slightest up-tilt to the corner of his mouth. She's hyperaware of his body as he leans forward to set down his food, then settles back on the couch facing her and she wonders how hard it would be to close the distance between them, to cross the cushion separating them and let the hard planes of his chest support her. She realizes she's staring and quickly glances away, but an almost magnetic pull tugs her eyes back to him, making her smile in response to his grin.

"See something you like, Zee-vah?" he asks, drawing out her name in a way that sends shivers down her spine.

She narrows her eyes in a glare but there's no anger behind it, though there is heat. For a second the air grows heavy with tension, weighing on them both as butterflies take flight in her stomach. Then he reaches out to trail one finger down her hand and the spell breaks, though a charge continues to flicker through the space between them. Finally she speaks, hoping not to change the mood in the room; it's too pleasant and things are too possible for her to wish anything different.

"I am sorry for the way I have acted this week," she says quietly, hardly loud enough to stir the silence, but she knows he hears.

He starts to shrug, then thinks better of it, remembering his injured shoulder just in time. "S'okay. I guess I figured I deserved it –"

"No!" she interrupts fiercely. "No! You did nothing wrong. I just...thought too much and..._wanted_ so much..." She feels strangely hesitant, almost afraid and she's not used to it, isn't quite sure how he'll handle it.

"Ziva," he breathes as he leans toward her, and, of a sudden, the air is thick again, nearly crackling with an unfamiliar, exciting energy, "what is it you want?"

She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to answer the intense emotion in his voice and eyes. "I-uh...I wh-- Tony, I—" She can't take this; it's too much, too fast, and not near enough, all at the same time. She glances away from his eyes but there's such urgency, such need there now. She can't help it, finally breaks. "_This_. Movies on the couch and Chinese take-out. Laughter and jokes. Late nights after cases, talking. Knowing there will be someone waiting for me when I come home. Knowing _you_ will be waiting for me at home. _Everything_. And so much more than that." She can't help the vulnerability in her voice, can't help how desperate she sounds. Disgusted at how weak she's let herself seem, she makes to stand, needs to distance herself from him, even just a little, because he hasn't moved yet and she's just poured out her heart to him, told him things she hasn't even wanted to admit to herself yet.

Faster than she thought him capable of, especially with an injured shoulder, he pulls her back down next to him, closer than before, practically into his lap. Her hands land on his chest to brace herself, to keep her balance, and the warmth of his body washes through her. That magnetic pull is back and she can't help it, has no will to resist it, even if she wanted to. A fire flares to life within his eyes just before his lips claim hers and she feels the desire – both his and hers – rush through her.

Time seems to slow as they kiss and she simply savors the feelings he invokes within her. There's nothing rushed, no urgency now, just touch and feeling and warmth. She revels in it, let's herself drown in it for a moment, clings to him as he holds her tight. She tries to shift closer to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders and freezes when he tears his mouth away from hers with a hiss.

"Ah! I am sorry! I forgot!" she apologizes quickly, jumping up off the couch. "I should go. I will just get you hurt again."

Again he pulls her back, straight into his lap this time. "I think I'll risk it," he tells her with a smile, resting his forehead against hers, his breath ghosting across her cheeks. "Stay with me, Ziva. Don't leave." His eyes are serious, a window to his thoughts. She didn't even have to think about her response, knows exactly what she wants to say, but needs some confirmation first.

"I'm tired of pretending," she whispers, the slightest catch tripping her words and this time there's no ambiguous meanings hidden in them. She feels tears fill her eyes and rapidly blinks them away; she won't allow herself that weakness quite yet, not till she gets her answer. He searches her eyes for a second before responding.

"Me, too."

She's never heard anything more wonderful in her life.

* * *

A/N: Not done yet, I think. One more chapter from Tony's POV to round things off. Keep a look out; I'll post it ASAP (probably sooner than later since I already have some idea of what to write).


	13. Anticipation

Title: Dry Spell

Author: Tearsofamiko

Rating: K

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Spoilers: No

Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C.

A/N: Final chapter! Sorry for the wait, but life caught up with me and the holidays were busier than I thought they'd be. Anyway, I posted a couple other things and finished 'Christmastime in the City,' so I hope that makes up for it. I've got some ideas up my sleeves, so I should be busy posting again. Yay! :D

* * *

It's not even Friday yet and he knows they'll be working the weekend, can feel it coming just as surely as he can feel the weather changing in his bad knee. It's gonna happen and, truth be told, he really doesn't mind.

He would like a little more sleep, though.

It's Friday night, the darkness is pressing against the windows, and he's about to collapse from exhaustion. His shoulder aches vaguely and he knows he's almost overdone it, knows he'll catch hell from all sides for overusing it so soon after removing the sling. At this point, though, he's too tired to care.

They all tromp wearily into the bullpen, groaning and complaining about their various aches and pains while dumping their gear and collapsing into their chairs. Gibbs has detoured for coffee, so they're safe for the moment, able to complain without risking concussions. It's been a long week and a difficult case and it's not over yet.

Glancing over at Ziva, he sees her exhaustion in the tired lines etching her face and the almost-softness of her posture and knows they won't be doing much tonight. She flashes him a look of muted affection from across the bull-pen and he smiles back, a warm look that sparks a small glow in her eyes. As she rests her forehead on her desk, he lets his head drop back to rest on the back of his chair and the memories unfurl.

...The taste of her golden skin...

...The shine in her eyes as his touch slowly drove her insane...

...The little girl delight as they threw snowballs at each other, playing in the snow the weekend before...

...Her flushed cheeks as he finally caught her, drawing her down into the snow next to him, feeling her smile against his lips...

He opens his eyes and catches her gaze as a smile blossoms across her face, awakening a rush of desire that causes him to almost groan as he remembers the night before and the way she'd come alive in his arms. There's a knowing glint in her eyes as she glances away and turns to her computer. He grins and does the same.

He's barely started working on anything when the elevator chimes and Gibbs strides into the squad room. Immediately his concentration's refocused as he waits for the verdict.

"Cancel all weekend plans. No one's leaving till we find out who did this."

He contributes to the obligatory moans and complaints, but catches Ziva's eye as he does so. Ever so subtly, she winks at him and he knows, without a doubt, she'll find some way to make up for their lack of time together. He leans back in his chair, watching her as she works and wondering what she has planned.

He does know one thing for sure: he doesn't think he'll ever mind working weekends again. In fact, he's pretty sure he's lookin' forward to it.


End file.
